See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil
by AotA
Summary: A short exploration of alternate communication methods as a result of environmental factors, staring Jazz, Prowl, and Wheeljack.


**Title: **See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil

**Author**: AotA

**Rating**: K

**Warnings**: None

**Characters**: Jazz, Prowl, Wheeljack

**Setting**: G1 Jazz and Prowl, but Wheeljack is my wildly AU Orbital-Femme frame motorcycle, this is pre-war

**Summary**: A short exploration of alternate communication methods as a result of environmental factors, staring Jazz, Prowl, and Wheeljack.

**Notes**: I'm not entirely sure where this came from but I think that it came from thinking about just _why_ Wheeljack has indicators. My 'Jack has a much more sophisticated indicator system than his G1 counterpart though. If you want my actual notes, they'll be at the bottom. I'm trying to write a second half to this. Concrit is always appreciated, especially as this is not beta read.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Transformers.

**See No Evil - Polyhex**

Jazz's mood rose higher the thicker the shifting, dense gases of Polyhex became. As soon as the opaque clouds blocked out most of the light, Jazz let himself pause to retract his visor. For a moment he winced and had to let his optics adjust to the sudden barrage of light even though, had he been any frame other than a Polyhexian, he would have been optic blind long before then in the clouds.

The telltale hum of the city was still a ways off but the familiar resonances cheered him even more, even though he was alone on the road, the only mech in sight heading toward Polyhex. Which was somewhat odd, but few mechs visited Polyhex casually anyway, just as few Polyhexians travelled in and out of the city casually either.

Jazz was one of the rare few, but even he preferred the ghost shift when the lighting was dimmed and didn't abuse his sensitive optics. The only problem was that the ghost shift was the ghost shift, and few mechs were out and about during that time.

Polyhex was nothing like anywhere else in the world. It was unique, and so were its people.

Some Polyhexians could go their entire function and never know the color of their best friend's plating or even ever light their optics. The cruel, crystal sharp clarity of sight held no place in Polyhex and even on an orn when the gases lightened as much as they ever did, everything was always a softened shadow within shadow.

This orn wasn't one of them. The gases grew thicker and thicker until even the ambient lighting was smothered, leaving Jazz in complete darkness.

Jazz hummed as he meandered along, listening to the beat of the city and truly feeling it in a way that no other city that he had visited had ever managed. It was good to be back, away from the dizzying insistent barrage of light. It was good to take off his visor and feel the thick opaque gases native only to Polyhex against his bared faceplates.

It was good to relax.

Jazz sent out a cheerful greeting to a passing mech as their sensory fields brushed each other. A calm reply came to him and even though it was largely impersonal, Jazz didn't mind. He didn't recognize the other mech's energy signature either.

Jazz listened a little longer to the ever present song that thrummed throughout Polyhex, hearing the most recent beats, and without hesitation, he let his voice soar, putting in his own addition to the tapestry of voices.

Polyhex would be sometimes chaotic and sometimes harmonious, sometimes upbeat and sometimes somber, but always, _always_ alive.

**Hear No Evil - Praxus**

It was the Time of Silence once more and Praxus turned once more to the visual arts. Performance, sculpture, dance. Color ran riot through the city. Wings gestured and spoke without their owner ever saying a word. Prowl remained at the back of the crowd and even though he watched the graceful dancers as they performed, he wasn't there enjoy the show.

The absence of sound was the only thing to listen to in Praxus during the Time of Silence. Even if a mech had tried to speak, they would not have been heard, as the Time of Silence was brought on by the lack of atmosphere that stole their voices with its absence. Praxus was the city on Cybertron that laid claim to being at the highest elevation. Praxus was unique in that as the atmospheric conditions changed, the Praxian inhabitants would speak, or not.

The Time of Silence however remained mostly a Praxian season, and even though the city drew visitors from all over Cybertron, rarely did the receive visitors when it was not the Time of Song and Cybertronian air let non Praxians speak. The Helix Gardens, with the beautiful crystal arrangements and other visual displays were often beyond visitors' understandings, and they came during the Time of Song anyway, instead of appreciating them as they should during the Time of Silence.

Prowl felt a tap against his shoulder and turned to face the mech wanting his attention. He flicked his wings in polite question.

Blueline nodded toward a suspicious knot of mechs and a pattern of inconspicuous wingbeats had Prowl lifting his own wings in acknowledgement. He raised his wings higher and stepped forward, the crowd parting before him. His black and white Enforcer's colors made him extremely conspicuous amongst the colorful crowd.

Reaching the clump of suspicious mechs, Prowl eyed each of them, sizing them up, before butting in on their little conference. As Blueline had done, Prowl tapped the two closest mechs on the shoulder to catch their attention.

All of them turned to look at the source of the interruption.

Prowl loomed over the impending troublemakers, wings raised high. The five mechs froze.

Prowl crossed his arms and frowned severely at all of them.

A rainbow of wings fluttered anxiously in supplication but Prowl's remained firmly, rigidly unimpressed.

As soon as the mechs realized that if they didn't get the pit out of dodge, then they were going to be in big trouble. Processors made up, the knot quickly dispersed, but Prowl watched each of them until they had departed from the event entirely.

What could be said without words… and what wouldn't be said.

What couldn't be said without words… and what wanted to be said.

Eventually the Time of Silence would end again, and the Time of Song would begin, and Praxian voices would ring again. And then the cycle would begin once more.

**Speak No Evil - Perihelix**

Wheeljack twirled acrobatically in the absence of gravity. Another Perihelixan flashed all his indicators at him an aggressively forward, disapproving solid purple as Wheeljack sailed by.

Wheeljack responded with an irreverent strobe of every color he could manage.

Just as he was passing out of sight, he saw the other mech's indicators start to flash irate curses at him.

Pleased with himself, Wheeljack's indicators relaxed back against his helm, an amused orange beginning to creep into the paneling. Trueshock was always so uptight…

Wheeljack maneuvered towards the labs. Landing at the magnetic lock, Wheeljack greeted the guards and flashed in inquiry as to their orn. Drab colors and bland expressions glowed in response. Their orn had been processor numbing dull, as per usual. Wheeljack let his lesser indicators tint a slight blue in sympathy before he shrugged, What can a mech do?

Affable greens rippled across the guards' indicator paneling as they finished checking his security clearance and credentials as they did every time that Wheeljack came. One guard waved him inside, but not before flashing Trueshock's designation and a mocking strobe.

Wheeljack and the other guard's indicators brightened in mirth and he entered the labs with his indicators a brilliant rosy orange.

A note posted at the entrance caught his attention, puzzling in its contents, why would they want to fill Perihelix with atmosphere in the first place? Or at all? Grounders were coming to visit? How very odd.

Shaking his head Wheeljack modulated his magnetic fields just enough to let him skate along the transit line instead of having to walk. Grounders coming to Perihelix was almost an oxymoron, for Perihelix was an orbital, mech-made city that remained high above Cybertron's surface. Of course it was capable of being pressurized, but none of the Perihelix residents saw any need to do so. They all had indicators, so why would they bother? It would simply be a waste of effort, energy, and time.

Unfortunately, grounders simply didn't usually have indicators like orbitals did. And that begged the question of _why_ the grounders were visiting in the first place.

Wheeljack paused, and realized that he was beginning to go in circles in his thoughts, and that he had arrived at his station. He put away his musings and greeted his assistant with a cheery flutter of his indicators and a vibrant pattern of pink, orange, and green.

Sixprints eyed him curiously, indicators flaring green in greeting for a moment before quickly shifting to an inquiring color. Wheeljack shook his head, pink shifting slightly towards the red spectrum, Later.

Sixprints shrugged it off and they got down to work on their latest project. The mystery of the visiting grounders would have to be solved another orn.

**See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil Notes:**

Indicators such as Wheeljack's usually seen in mechs who work in an environment not conducive to vocal communication, be it form vacuum, noise saturation/pollution. Orbital indicators are highly sophisticated and largely replace vocal communication.

Praxian wings used due to intermittent periods of no atmosphere. Not as efficient as orbital types because nonvocal periods tended not to last too long. Wings can convey a wide variety of meanings but cannot wholly replace speech like the orbitals' indicators. The periods of atmosphere and no atmosphere have created a culture that incorporates these changes. These times are the Time of Song and the Time of Silence and each have important traditions around them.

Polyhexians on the other hand have highly developed auditory capabilities and poor tolerances in "normal" visual situations. This is the reason behind the visors that Polyhexians are known for. Within Polyhex, it is rare to see a visored mech, however. The advanced auditory capabilities replace body language entirely. As often, sight can be rendered completely useless, Polyhexians have a developed "touch at a distance" sense.

Wheeljack - Frame type: Femme - Subgroup: Orbital

Polyhex, Praxus, Peri(around)helix("helic" spiral/circular)


End file.
